Snuggles
by Venus Tenshi
Summary: Kratos doesn't like physical contact. When Lloyd sleeps, he doesn't like to acknowledge that fact. -OneShot- -Oyako- -Family fluffyness-


I was sitting with my mum watching some weird-ass show that made no sense, and she asked for a cuddle out of the blue. I was a bit "omgbbq?" about it, which kinda inspired this D: I think Kratos would act a little like that in certain situations ... cold hearted piece of stooooone.

I've had irregular eating habits and sleeping patterns the past month which I apparently have to live out (doctor says my clinical depression is coming back), so I've been writing this over the course of about two or three nights whenever I woke up for five minutes before falling back to sleep. Now I just gotta try, y'know, not sleeping in the day : School tomorrow, will undoubtibly nod off in French.

And so I present to you some rather pointless fluff, because everyone loves that :3 I plan to do another oyako fic in the future based off the song "For Good" from Wicked, but I have no idea when I'll get to that D: I want to do it so much, because the song is just alskdjalskdjalitmakesmecry.

Enjoy 8D

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**Snuggles**

Kratos Aurion did not like physical contact.

The fact could derive from the simplest of situations – a soft brush against the arm, a whisper in his ear, even someone tugging his hair gently to get his attention (which people seemed to do, and he had yet to discover why exactly). Whatever it was, he still felt uncomfortable at the closeness of another individual and had always felt such things. It made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, made his muscles tense, and he lived by his driven instinct to gently push away the person in question.

It was rare, however, that he was subjected to any physical contact. Days spent in Welgaia were spent isolated within the cold walls of his quarters, and he seldom had to come across another living being. The only touches he had experienced with any humanity at all were perhaps a comforting hand on his shoulder from Yuan when his former-mentor could see the stone of mask cracking away slowly. Perhaps on some occasion he had felt the warmth of embrace from the older man from the days Yuan had trained him, but it's something he couldn't remember, and couldn't define if it had made him uncomfortable or not. As time passed, the comforting gestures had dwindled, and his isolation claimed once more.

Even within his relationship with Anna when he had spent nights with her arms wrapped around him, he still felt inclined to push her away when he was certain she was sleeping. Of course, whenever she woke in the night or in the morning, she simply rolled back over and tugged him into her arms once more, burying her face in his hair (again, he had yet to discover why people were drawn to his hair).

And even when Lloyd was born, he was reluctant to take the child the midwife had handed to him into his arms. It could perhaps have been the shock of something he hadn't really prepared himself for – suddenly burdened with a natural and inescapable duty to protect something so small and fragile. Even when he did eventually take the newborn into his hold, his hands were shaking violently as he ran his fingertips over those closed eyes, the tiny nose and gently clenched lips. The fear of dropping him was unbelievable and only made his desire for contact lessen. After a few forced hours, he shakily handed his son back to a rather worn out Anna who simply cradled her son to her chest as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

And even now, almost fourteen years later, he still hated the touch of another.

For as long as he could remember, the only touch he had ever appreciated was Noishe's. It could have been a millennia of wet noses nudging his cheek for attention, heavily thudding his head into his lap for a scratch behind the ears, nibbling at his hair when he slept. Sometimes he wished he could go back to the short space of time where he had undergone his own angelic transformation that denied him his human senses, where he could successfully push Noishe away when he got close to his hair (once more, he wondered what made people interested in his hair). When his Rune Crest had been fitted during his state of lifelessness and he had once again regained his senses, Noishe had returned to his usual hair-chewing ways.

Now while he accompanied Sylvarant's beloved Chosen on her journey, he remained by Noishe's side for the nights. The wolfish creature lay stretched out on the hard earth while Kratos rested against his side, usually with the other owner of the 'dog' as he liked to call it. Kratos stayed near Noishe's head so he could give him his much whined for attention regularly. Lloyd found Noishe's stomach to be the perfect pillow and usually nestled up into his warm fur with his blanket wrapped around him. Either way, Lloyd was at a comfortable distance so Kratos could relax.

Still sleeping, Noishe's ear twitched softly against his arm, and he raised his eyes to observe his companions as they slept. The two half-elven siblings were huddled together against this particularly cold night, and the Chosen had simply resided alone while unaffected against the chill. He knew she wasn't asleep, and felt the smallest pang of pity for her. The shock and fear of the transformation had startled him those many years ago, but this Chosen was exceptionally brave and driven. Much unlike the Tethe'allan Chosen, who he had known to take his status to his advantage, lounging around his home while waiting for Cruxis to beckon him to his inevitable fate.

A soft mumble broke the silence, save for the crumbling of embers slowly burning out. Kratos looked to his side to the boy sleeping soundly, cheek pressed against Noishe's heaving stomach. His blanket was pooled around his waist from endless tossing and turning as he slept, subjecting him to the harsh chill of night. Asgard's region was extremely cold this time of year, especially at once the sun was down. It would be hot once they reached Hima, but on this side of the world they had to live out the weather. Only a few more weeks.

Lloyd tossed again, making Noishe growl softly. His blanket slipped from around him, and he curled up closer to his pet, brow furrowed at his discomfort. Though he slept in his travelling clothes (save for his dirtied boots), Kratos had noted countless times that his jacket and trousers were extraordinarily thin. Snow was extremely rare in Iselia – the last must have been almost thirty years ago - and it was warm all year around. Lloyd most likely had no clothes for such weather, having not left Iselia since ...

Kratos averted his eyes back to the dying campfire.

Noishe whined when Lloyd shifted again, and Kratos placed a hand on the animal's head. He was reluctant to reach over and tug Lloyd's blanket back up to his shoulders when he noticed the boy's hand was clenching softly within Noishe's fur. Kratos did not mind the cold, but for someone who had lived their life in a warm climate, it must be painful. He wondered vaguely why Lloyd hadn't jerked awake yet. He must have gotten his heavy sleeping from Anna.

When Lloyd was a child, it was rare that he ever woke in the night. Anna worked during the day – playing with him, feeding him, all the motherly things she wouldn't dare let Kratos handle with his lack of experience with children. She acknowledged his natural fear to harm something so little and delicate, and allowed him just to watch her while she tried to teach baby Lloyd that the man usually recoiling in horror whenever he neared him was Daddy.

And when Anna was worn out after hours of looking after their child, she slept like a log during the night. Should Lloyd ever wake crying in need of something, it was ultimately Kratos' job to tend to him unless he wanted to leave him screaming until sunrise, only to suffer being slapped with a frying pan in the morning. He had experienced such a thing several times, and half-heartedly went to see to his son whenever he had to.

He ignored all the signs. Lloyd calmed down quickly whenever Kratos shakily gathered him into his arms, clutching his father's bedclothes and snuggling into his chest. When Kratos lowered him slowly, Lloyd clutched tighter, whimpering and sniffling. Countless nights he had spent sitting in Lloyd's room, just holding him while he slept silently. Kratos never took his eyes off the child's face when he slept, wondering how he could be afraid of something so small. He knew Lloyd would seldom cry if he spent time with him during the day, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. And so, the first year and a half of Lloyd's life were spent crying for his father at night.

Kratos finally slipped into a normal fatherly figure when Lloyd grew older. He still found himself wishing he could move Lloyd to Anna whenever the toddler crawled into his lap at night, resting his head against his chest. Anna merely scowled at his hopeful looks, twisting the lobe of his ear sharply whenever he tried to budge Lloyd from his personal space. Kratos loved his son and found it impossible to say no to him, but he still felt awkward having someone so keen for his attention. The only other thing that ever bothered him for attention so much was Noishe, and it had taken him millennia to get used to that. Lloyd didn't have a chance.

Kratos glanced to his sleeping son again. Even now, he tensed when Lloyd tripped and fell into him during their training sessions, when he slung his arms around his neck from behind when he sat silently away from the group, asking in his droning tone "what'cha dooooooin'?". Though Kratos pushed him away whenever he came too close, Lloyd still didn't catch the hint. Or perhaps he did and was intent on annoying Kratos. Either would be logical.

Noishe whined quite loudly when Lloyd moved again. Kratos looked to the animal's face to see if the sudden movement had woken him, knowing that as soon as he was awake he would want food. Luckily, Noishe just snorted softly before settling back down. Kratos sighed quietly in relief, relaxing against the animal while his eyes slipped shut. He hadn't slept in an extremely long time. If he remained awake for another few days, it would begin to affect his performance in battle. A few hours would suffice – the group would have to rise early on the way to Luin if they hoped to avoid another night on the cold plains separating the two main cities in this region.

Of course, he wouldn't be getting much sleep. Something warm brushed against his arm, and his eyes snapped open.

Before he could avoid it at the last moment, Lloyd leaned against his arm. He had been shuffling slowly closer in his sleep, his mind unconsciously placing Kratos as the nearest source of warmth. Kratos almost jerked in surprise, but managed to remain still while Lloyd relaxed against his muscular arm. He could see him shivering against the wind, and hesitantly brushed his fingers across Lloyd's flesh where his sleeve was bunched up at his elbow. The fine blond hairs on his arms were standing on end with goosebumps, and his skin was frozen to the touch.

Noishe growled softly in protest as if detecting Kratos' urge to gently move Lloyd away. Damned animal was supposed to be sleeping.

Kratos only tensed further when Lloyd rested his head against his broad shoulder with a sleepy mumble, still dead to the world. In all honesty, Kratos didn't have the heart to wake him when he saw the peaceful expression that graced his young features. For days he had dreamt horrors he held back around the others, his grins and upbeat attitude dying in sleep. Far too many things already weighed on his shoulders – Iselia's destruction, Marble's death, Chocolat's imprisonment. Even though he smiled, Kratos could see the crushing guilt and pain he kept locked away, forcing it down.

It was only at night that the heavy lock he kept on his emotions seemed to crack, and the negativity crept into his dreams. Still, Kratos did not touch, comfort, or wake him. He remembered several nights watching Lloyd writhe and coil tightly into himself, clawing desperately at the bed sheets and resisting the urge to cry out. When he awoke in a cold sweat, panting, staring dead ahead in a daze of blind panic ... Kratos always feigned sleep, not daring to touch him. It would only make it worse. He didn't want Lloyd trusting him – it would only hurt him more when the time came, and he had enough to worry about.

Yet still, he was finally sleeping in peace, warm and safe resting against his father.

Kratos' human instincts told him to push him away, but for what might have been one of the rarest moments, his parental instincts won the battle.

To his surprise, without a sigh of reluctance, he gently shifted his arm from underneath Lloyd's weight, holding it back for a moment. Sure enough after a few seconds, Lloyd's brow furrowed in sleep laced confusion and he shifted once more, snuggling close into Kratos side. He managed the smallest smile, gently placing his arm around Lloyd as not to wake him. Once sure he was sound asleep, he drew him slightly closer, instincts clashing and daring each other.

Lloyd finally relaxed against him once more, tucked in the crook of the mercenary's upper arm while it rested around his back. Lloyd laid his head against Kratos' shoulder again, snuggling his body closer just like when he was a baby squirming gently in his father's arms, trying to bury himself within his nightshirt.

With Lloyd resting calmly against him, safe from the cold and threats of nightmares with reassurance from an undetectable force in his slumber ... he smiled. Genuinely, for the first time in a long while. Though he was sleeping, Kratos still saw that his mind was completely carefree for a salvation worthy moment. He rested his cheek against Lloyd's hair, wondering if he should submit to slumber himself or remain awake and watch over.

Eventually, the rhythmatic breathing from Lloyd lulled him into a reluctant sleep.

-------------

Kratos was woken by something jerking wildly against him.

It didn't take long for him to compose himself when awaking, and blinked once or twice before looking to his side. The fire had long burnt out, and the sun was rising slowly at the brink of the horizon. The rest of the group were still sleeping soundly, unaware of the world around them as they ignored the light slowly crawling across the land.

All but one.

Turning to the boy who had, mere moments ago, been tucked safely against his side while he slept was sitting a good meter away. Sitting was a term used loosely – he was sprawled out against the floor, supported up by his elbows while he stared at Kratos with a look mixed between confusion and horror. Kratos merely regarded his for a moment, arm dropping into his lap while he yawned softly, averting his tired eyes to the campfire still smoking slightly.

'Good morning, Lloyd.'

He didn't get an answer, and didn't bother to wait for one. Lloyd's first words when waking were usually an incoherent mumble or a half-hearted demand for breakfast, so it might be difficult to do otherwise despite the situation. Lloyd's eyes flicked around to the other members of their group, checking that they were still at slumber's mercy before turning slowly back to Kratos.

'... Nothing happened.'

'Not a thing,' Kratos agreed quietly with the faintest hint of a smirk.

Perhaps Lloyd had gained some of his attitude after all.


End file.
